


a howling madness

by sapsorrow



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Transformation, Werewolf Transformation, beast-possessed soul - Freeform, djura is a good friend, pate is a bloodborne hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 18:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapsorrow/pseuds/sapsorrow
Summary: The burning of Old Yharnam left a bad taste in everyone's mouth, worse so in the mouths of the remaining Powder Kegs. The silence hung heavy in the air as one single revelation echoed through each of their minds. Beasts were people...and the Church knew.





	a howling madness

**Author's Note:**

> my bloodborne pate is partially inspired by donlemefo's bloodborne au! please check them out on tumblr!
> 
> this is also my headcanon/au for bloodborne Pate when I rp him. I never really get to explore his relationship with Djura so I felt like showing Pate's decent into beasthood and why he still kind of labels himself a powderkeg despite how they disbanded. (Also my Pate is a vileblood who survived the Cainhurst slaughter and thus is undercover as a hunter in Yharnam)  
> rk8con commission i got of transforming pate!  
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/51286a526e756cea4977fd91d9f3af2e/tumblr_ph7209yAZ41w793r3o1_1280.png

The burning of Old Yharnam left a bad taste in everyone's mouth, worse so in the mouths of the remaining Powder Kegs. The silence hung heavy in the air as one single revelation echoed through each of their minds. Beasts were people...and the Church knew.

And worse yet, which one of them would be next to turn? It wasn't long until hunter after hunter disbanded out of fear and disgust, but those who stayed did not decide to continue the hunt. No, the now retired hunters quelled the remaining embers in the ruins of Old Yharnam and made it a new haven -- not for men, but for beasts.

"This is madness, I know," spoke Djura, a new bandage wrapped around his now missing eye as he spoke to the few members that remained. "But we have no choice. It was our duty to help the people and we've continued to fail. Now we have a chance to make up for our past mistakes. Do not hunt these poor creatures. Bring them here, where they can no longer hurt others and where the thirst of the hunt can not reach them."

Not everyone agreed with Djura's plan, the numbers growing thinner yet. Still, Djura's ideal did not waver. Five hunters total remained. One in particular stood behind the rest, arms folded and studying each hunter with a narrowed gaze. "We can't possibly do this with such small numbers. The night of the hunt gets worse every time, Captain."

One of the other powder kegs turned to glare under his hat at the man who spoke. "You still have plenty of time to leave. Don't act like you're not a coward, Pate."

Pate uncrossed his arms and held up a hand in good faith. "I'm only stating the facts here. I want to help. What has been happening here is unforgivable. I'm only being realistic."

"We may not be able to save everyone, this is true," Djura interrupted as he stepped between the two. He did not wish for his small team to be at odds with one another already. "But we have to try, regardless. Even if we do not accomplish such a feat, we'll still be able to make a difference."

Pate did not argue Djura's points, he understood the sentiment. But such pathetic hope... why was he still here? His allies were dwindling and he had little reason to stick with them now. Despite the others, Pate felt no guilt in murdering beasts. The echoes in this burned husk of a town, however, felt like ghosts on his skin. He dared not think about it for long, how it reminded him of home. It twisted in his gut and he felt the sharpness of his teeth dig into his cheek as he fought the unease. 

"You're right," Pate breathed out in defeat, bowing his head as he rested his hand on top of his hat to keep it in place. "It is the least all of us can do." But would any of them spare him, if they knew he hailed from Cainhurst? 

 

\---

The next Night of the Hunt wouldn't be until a month from now, so time was spent in cleaning up the ashen city as much as they could, eventually sealing up as many entrances as possible. Would it hold bloodthirsty hunters looking for a fight? Time would tell. With only five people to do all of this work, only so much could get done. Any remaining beasts that had survived the last hunt had been found by the former powder kegs and eventually coaxed inside Old Yharnam, although not without some blood being spilled.

"Damn it, the little bastard bit me!" 

"Of course it did, your hand was right by its mouth," Pate drawled at the wounded hunter, passing her a spare blood vial politely. "It may look _cute_ , but do be careful. The rope is getting loose." He took a moment to step beside the ragged, scraggly creature before tying the knot a bit tighter before lifting the beast up into the cart with the others. Djura's plan better work. Letting these things loose in Old Yharnam could end up disastrous if they weren't careful. 

"Pate?" The hunter he had been helping caught his attention, noticing the slight concern in her voice. Apparently he had been stuck staring at the half moon in the sky.

"Hm? Oh, right. Let's get going, shall we?"

He didn't want to mention how it seemed to beckon to him, or how sharp his teeth had gotten just the other day. Blood coated his lip, but he wiped it away on his glove before they returned to the front of the carriage and began heading back.

\---

His need for blood was getting worse as days wore on. He knew it was not the best idea to go through everyone's supplies when they were sleeping, just for a little dose. He would be caught eventually, _he knew this_. But he couldn't stop. The hunger was never really satiated, not when there was so little he could salvage from the vials. His concern at first was that this was simply vileblood tendencies rearing its head after so long, but when he saw the curve of his claws tearing through gloves, the real panic started to set in. The blood helped, the blood soothed the torturous pain that welled up inside him, made it all go away. No one noticed, no one had seen this yet. Enough blood could reverse the scourge, so everyone had been told. It had to be true, right? 

Just like burning Old Yharnam for the good of the city was true. 

Pate barely held in a suffering groan, trying to stand up and set the bag down, heart jumping into his throat when he heard the creak of a footstep against the wooden floor. "Pate? What is it?" 

Djura. Damn, of all the hunters -- he wouldn't be able to kill him easily, not without drawing attention. His fingers clutched around the vial he had found, trying to hide it away in a pouch before the man noticed. "Sorry," he spoke quietly, glad it hid the tremor in his voice. "I thought I left something in here. Weren't you on night watch at the tower?" 

"I was, but Dana insisted I should get some sleep and took over." The retired hunter gave a dusty sort of laugh before his keen, working eye spotted the abnormality sprouting from the other man's glove. Without a word, he stepped forward and caught Pate's wrist before he could reach for a weapon. His brows knitted together, getting a closer look at the unnatural claws, the barest hint of fur at the base. "How long has this been going on?"

" _Don't_ ," Pate hissed through his teeth, attempting to jerk his wrist free. "I have it under control."

"Do you?" 

There was a steady silence between them before Djura let go, sighing. 

"You know you are safe here, friend," he said eventually, lifting his hand to instead rest on Pate's shoulder. He had noticed the hesitant flinch, but was glad that his compatriot hadn't shied away completely. 

"We'll need more blood." Pate had tried to play it off calmly, but he knew just how desperate he must have sounded due to the fact Djura's expression became all the sadder. "I can take a trip outside, gather supplies--" he continued, stopping once Djura squeezed his shoulder and shook his head.

"That would be too dangerous in your current condition. The Night of the Hunt draws closer again, you'll need to stay here. I'll set the others out in your stead to make up for your...appetite." He motioned towards the vial and many more he had seen the hunter stash away before he had made himself known. Pate clenched his fists, jaw tense as he knew, rationally, Djura was right. 

"Are you going to tell them?"

"If you won't, I will have to eventually." Djura stepped away to look around the room, knowing at least one person was sound asleep. "In any case, I'll need to catch some sleep before Dana bites my ear off. Will you be alright?"

Pate ran a hand down his face, glad that at least his right hand wasn't as clawed up as his other, and nodded. "Yes, yes I'll - goodnight, Djura." Stiffly, he walked out of the makeshift home to get some fresh air. Not that it really counted as 'fresh' when the air smelled of blood and sulfur.  He pulled out a vial and drank it quickly, subduing the shakes that wracked through him. The moon was almost full. Would he be able to keep this up by then? He had fallen under this town's damned curse now...what hope did he have to finish off the job he had set out to do?

\---

"Mother of Kos, are you alright?" 

No, no he was not alright. Pate heaved, hunched over and coughing up large amounts of blood that coagulated darkly onto the ground. It was horrible, he felt horrible. Like his insides were tearing themselves apart as he wretched on the ground like a sick dog. 

They had returned with supplies a day late, and the full moon was on the horizon. Giant and intimidating in the dusky sky. Djura had tried to bring some of the vials to him when the poor man appeared to be getting worse, but Pate had only seemed to regurgitate it all almost immediately. 

"What the fuck is going on here?" Silas, one of the hunters who returned, watched with a grimace as he hesitantly tapped his fingers against the hilt of his saw cleaver. He knew what was possible and he shot Djura a worried glance. "Is he - _changing_?"

Pate muttered a curse under his breath, trying to sit up as blood dribbled from his mouth, eyes ablaze with something unnatural. "I'm fine." The first lucid thing he had said in hours, as far as Djura was concerned, but it still didn't bode well. The retired hunter made a hand motion to shoo the others away and give the mild mannered hunter some space before kneeling down to catch the man's fevered complexion in his hands. 

"Boy, listen to me." Pate's vision was blurry from the haze of the darkening night, his mind a fog as he sniffed and coughed before leaning into the soothing hand of what he supposed he could call a _friend._ He had to laugh at the absurdity of it. Friends with a Yharnamite. A laugh that quite nearly turned into a sob as his body practically convulsed painfully, making his lips all the more bloody as he bit down.  "Pate!"  The shout of his name made it all go silent for a moment, clarity as his eyes widened and focused on Djura's face. "You are going to hurt yourself if you keep doing this." 

"Mmng," came the bloody hunter's pathetic reply, still leaning into those hands tiredly. 

"I'll stay here with you. You won't be alone. No one will hurt you here, you don't need to be afraid. Fighting this only makes it worse." Djura's expression was pained but sympathetic. He'd seen what fighting it did to a friend, a very close friend. Gascoigne was barely hanging on, and a clear danger to his family if he didn't come to Old Yharnam to rest. If he could just make him see - make them all see! 

Pate heard him, heard him and cursed him inside his mind. How could he just give into this? He was turning into something horrible, uncontrollable. He would lose his mind, his entire sense of self, and Djura wanted him to do it? A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, teeth barred but useless with the way Djura held his jaw so carefully.,Like he'd done this before. An eventual whine took its place, his body shivering and tired from the pain he had been enduring. "It hurts," he mumbled out pathetically, hating the way he sounded as sweat and tears stung his eyes.

"I know...I know," Djura whispered, apologetic as he placed his forehead against the unfortunate hunter. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, my friend."

Pate's pathetic sobs soon took on a less natural sound, as if a wild animal had tried to mimic it alone, replaced instead with more whimpers and whines. His face burned and itched and felt as if it was falling apart as it stretched and morphed itself. He quickly scrambled for support, gripping unnaturally long claws onto Djura's arms as he howled in pain. The horns were the worst part of it all, causing Pate's eyes to roll into the back of his head as they sprouted and curled, drenched in his own blood. 

The retired hunter watched, fascinated and pained to see what the man was becoming. "Djura--" Silas warned, pulling him away as those claws had begun ripping through fabric and drew blood. He let the man help him to his feet and away from the pathetic sight, quietly thanking him. "What do we do?"

"We wait. And when it's done, we put him somewhere safe." 

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts -- the only words that were uttered in the remnants of Pate's mind as he felt his joints snap and bones elongate to mold into his new form. Fur was matted and red, both from blood and color. His body both tore apart his immaculate clothes and grew emaciated enough to let it hang over him. He writhed, clawing at the dirt and cobblestones, yellow eyes staring, begging for Djura to end this. He didn't want this, he didn't want any of this. Kill him kill him kill him! 

But all that came out of his mouth was a mournful howl as a bony appendage broke through behind him, tearing through what little was left of his trousers. He coughed and hacked before long as fur grew from patches around his neck, tightening the tie and cloth he had wrapped around his throat. He tore at it with his claws as he struggled, wheezing until he was free. Free and on his back staring up at the moon that stared right back.

Pate closed his eyes but for a second, and then he dreamed.

\---

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a familiar room and the light shown through the cracks that it was morning. He winced, lifting a hand up to his face to shield his eyes. What a horrible nightmare. Pate groaned and sat up, rubbing both hands over his face - his very human face, as he tried to wake himself up. He paused, however, when he heard the sound of clinking. There were chains along his wrists. "What --" Very obviously concerned, he tore the blanket off of him to see that his ankles, too, wore given some poorly done shackles. 

"You're awake. And of sound mind, I see," came an all too familiar voice. Pate's head shot up instantly, alarmed eyes meeting only a gentle one. "I'm sorry you had to wake up to this. Last night was a bit of a nightmare, you could say." He stepped in with a plate of bread and a glass of water. "How much do you remember?"

"I..." Pate's voice was hoarse, almost broken by the sound of it. It left him uneasy, and he was glad to accept the water. Djura was patient and let him take his time. "I remember changing." He warily watched the retired hunter's reaction, heart sinking when it seemed that was indeed what happened. "Then how am I-"

"We don't know. By the time the sun returned, we found you as a man again. You'll have to forgive us, we weren't sure if you would have your mind back as well when you woke up. Hence the..." Djura sheepishly motioned towards the shackles. "I'll remove them now." He showed the keys for both and Pate didn't argue, though he was quick to grab the sheet on the cot to wrap himself back up, all too aware now that he was practically naked. 

Pate cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"You caused quite a commotion. You kept trying to fight every beast we brought in. So we had to keep you separated, you see. I'm glad you were somehow able to regain yourself, otherwise I imagine you would be living a very lonely life." 

As much as Pate wanted to hate the man right now, he couldn't. Djura hadn't killed him last night, even though it was the more sane thing to do in this situation. His stomach pained him with hunger, and for once it wasn't for blood. He snatched the bread as if it'd be taken away from him, even though he knew it wouldn't be.  As he chewed on the bread, a thought crossed his mind. "Do you think..."

"That others may return to themselves? I don't know. I would like to think so. You're at least proof that it's possible."

Hope. Hope radiated off of Djura like the sun outside the window. Pate almost felt sick. He didn't want to bring hope to any of these people. Why should he, when they didn't think to help during the slaughter of Cainhurst? But still, he didn't have it in him to be angry. He was too exhausted, too confused. "Mm..." came his tired response as Djura watched him. When he closed his eyes again, he dreamed.


End file.
